003 STAR TREK: Patterns of Invasion
by Dan Bivens
Summary: Remember Ekos and John Gill's failed Nazi social experiment? After leaving, Kirk and company never retrieved their phasers from Gestapo...now, one year later, warpcapable Nazis stage their invasion into Federation space! And guess who's still alive!
1. Chapter 1

**PATTERNS OF INVASION**

By: Dan Bivens

Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

"Has extermination procedures been enacted, Colonel Ethok?" asked the man with the wavy, thick hair of basic brown, a well-shaven scowling countenance at once handsome and hate-filled, with the tan uniform shirt a striking duplication of what had been worn by such as he on Old Earth in the 1930s.

The man wearing solid black, from black-billed officer's cap down to tucked-into-black boots uniform trousers, Col. Ethok, stood stiffly before the undisputed leader of these revitalized villains. And after an attempted assassination from the second such as he had shot and killed the cowardly traitor who used to lead them, yet was, as it turned out, a mysterious humanoid alien from a far distant planet…Earth.

"Yes, my Leader," Col. Ethok said with a snap to his military tone, while standing at attention, "according to those sent via our first warp-driven vessels, the entire planet fell far more rapidly than originally planned. Those few tens of thousands not executed have been brought under our utter control."

"Excellent, Colonel," said this assassination-surviving commander-in-chief of what might become the greatest threat ever to foreshadow the Federation. "Prepare our troops for the Ultimate Task…the all-out attack on those who tried to stop our destined rise over a year ago. Not only the United Federation of Planets…but the starship christened: ENTERPRISE!"

"Yes, my Leader!" said the too-eager Ethok in the solid-black uniform even as his right arm shot out at a stiff forty-five degree angle so dangerously reminiscent of an Earth-born beast of destruction that, in Human history, had become synonymous with monstrous evil.

No sooner said than the Colonel in black exited stiff-legged from the office once held by an alien. Unknown to their kind, of course, whom this man now holding the reins of power had shot and killed before being shot himself by an infiltrating member of the self-same planetary race razed by warp-driven vessels. Bristling with new weapons of phased energy as well as holding within their hulls hundreds of newly armed, freshly sadistic soldiers in instantly distinctive helmets of metal dressed, one and all, in gray-green uniforms formerly worn by Humans three centuries earlier.

Then this Leader looked over to the opposite side of his opulent office, within the heart of a big building that was the controlling center of his race's power base, in order to grin greedily at and salute, in the same stiff-armed fashion, the red, white, and black flag followed by purely pedigreed individuals from this singular planet. And which, for officers at least, a small replica of which formed the armband brandished by such sadistically skillful leaders: the slightly tilted swastika in a white circle against the blood-red field surrounding it all.

They were more than merely proud, warlike Ekosians. After the full recovery of a supposedly shot dead Melakon, former Deputy Führer and, now, at long last, Führer, or Leader, of the resurrected army that their former Führer, John Gill, the alien that had so deviously deceived them all…all save for Melakon, naturally, although, in order to regain the control over such sick-minded men and women of power, it was necessary for Melakon to continue the charade regarding the shot-by-him Human attempting to instigate peace instead of what such as Ekos had so longed to obtain: total control!

"To think, we of Ekos owe our great resurrection as a force to be reckoned with to this," said the insanely sick with unreasoning hatred of Zeons, their planetary neighbors within the self-same system of M34, while handling the left-behind hand phaser, so small yet so destructive, that the Gestapo scientists and technicians had, at long last, retro-engineered in order to understand all about its intrinsically futuristic secrets.

"After recovering completely from the attempt on my life by, of all things, a Zeon impersonating an Ekosian SS soldier, it was easy to rally only those former Ekosian Nazi officers in order to resuscitate the true nature of our supreme race and world. Not to mention our manifest destiny of, first, near-total destruction of Zeon, while promptly placing survivors of such a sub-Ekosian species under our dictatorial rule. Slaves to labor arduously in order to rapidly produce even more Ekosian starships! Starships to sweep through the heart of Federation space, destroying any and all of their starships sent against us, before eventually ruling those worlds as well. Not to mention…torturing those of the ENTERPRISE to eventual death. Starting with…Captain James T. Kirk!"

CAPTAIN'S LOG, STARDATE: 2634.1. So far the USS ENTERPRISE has had a monotonously safe set of missions since the incident involving the late John Gill's disastrous introduction of a Nazi-led rule, originally benign before the Deputy Führer Melakon had taken total control, on the planet called Ekos in the M34 star system. Strangely, on the one hand I'm quite happy there have been no unknown, or known, dangers thus far to Starfleet or the Federation. On the other hand…well, let's just say a year of relative listlessness and tedium is more than a man of action, such as myself…or so I've been told repeatedly…can understandably endure. But, who knows? Perhaps the next excitingly deadly situation is just around the proverbial corner.

"Sensor report, Mr. Spock," said Captain James T. Kirk wearily from the becoming-too-comfortable center seat of his too-quiet bridge of restless officers.

Save, of course, for Commander Spock as the Vulcan science officer/first officer, once again, gave the kind of indifferent response while standing in order to stare straight down into the scanner hood's luminously blue display of a string of incessantly too-safe information from their immediate, up to four full light-years, spatial surroundings.

"No disturbances, Captain," said Spock as he straightened into his typically tall, thin Vulcan physicality while half-turning toward the centrally located commanding officer. "And we are on schedule with our next set of planetary tasks in regards to re-supply runs and Federation personnel pickups and…"

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," sighed a tensely seated Kirk even as he realized the irritation regarding the monotone multi-syllabic delivery of routine reports from Spock had, after an uneventful year, started to take their toll on his already eroded fortitude. "Uh, Mr. Sulu?"

Every bit as bored as the still seated Captain, Lt. Hikaru Sulu glanced at his helm's multitude of readouts and said, without swiveling around, "Still traveling at Warp Factor Five, sir. ETA to the 61 Cygni homeworld for the transporting up of their Ambassador Trellius, in order to take her to…"

"Lieutenant," growled a less-than-patient Captain Kirk in order to promptly stop such superfluous reporting, "I am well aware of why we're picking Ambassador Trellius up and where we're taking her. Stick to only the most necessary parts in your responses. Is that clear?"

"Aye, Captain," Sulu said in a strained tone, even as Kirk half-swiveled his center seat in the direction of his beauteous ebony-skinned communications officer, also as unbelievably bored as the rest, again save for Spock.

"Lt. Uhura, send a standard pre-arrival subspace message to the 61 Cygni homeworld of Ch'Lonn Three, please."

Lt. Nyota Uhura, her hands a little less energetically darting across her control board to do what she'd already prepared to do with or without Kirk's command, heaved, "Aye, Captain. Standard pre-arrival message sent. At this distance…"

"Lieutenant, I know how close we are to 61 Cygni and I do not need to know exactly how long, taking mere minutes, it will take for a subspace transmission, both to and from Ch'Lonn Three, to take."

Lt. Uhura secretly toyed with the thought of telling her Captain where to stick…well, let's just say she was entertaining a not-nice notion that could easily end with her being either confined to her cabin or, worse, locked away via force field in one of the starship's claustrophobic brigs for a indeterminate time.

So she did exactly the right thing by simply saying, "Yes, Captain", and leaving it at that.

Suddenly, even as an equally bored-to-tears Dr. Leonard H. McCoy came out of the just-arrived turbolift in order to stand to the left side of Kirk's command chair in the middle of the lower tier of the circular-shaped bridge.

"Bones," tensely said Kirk in a vain attempt at making small talk, "how goes it in sickbay?"

"'How goes it in sickbay'?" the intensely scowling McCoy curtly parroted even as he leaned with one elbow against the center seat's left armrest, causing a less-than-civilized, in these past several weeks especially, Kirk to cut an hard glare in his chief medical officer and friend's direction. "Christine and I haven't so much as treated a cold or removed a hangnail for more months than I care to count. How do you think it's going down on Deck Six? The same as every other damn deck! How's it going on Deck One…Captain?"

Just as it seemed, to Spock and his begrudging understanding of Human behavior in regards to the crew of a Constitution-class starship that had seen an inordinate proportion of extreme excitement, until this most recent passage of a single year, that two of the top executives of the USS ENTERPRISE were uncomfortably close to literally strangling one another in front of the entire bridge crew…

"Captain," Spock said stoically from his swiveled around seat, with a lazy lifting of a single slanted brow, "I believe we are due to hold a meeting between top officers in the main briefing room prior to entering orbit about Ch'Lonn Three."

Even as the half-Vulcan/half-Human science officer/first officer swiftly stood, hands folded neatly behind his board-straight back, regarding Kirk and McCoy in a Vulcan look quite close to an affectation of aloofness, the Captain quickly came to realize his reasoning and nodded, "Uh, yes, Mr. Spock, thank you for reminding me. Dr. McCoy, Mr. Scott…if you please?"

No sooner had the quartet of top officers left the bridge via the just-arrived turbolift's hissing doors…

"I don't know about the rest of you," Uhura said in an uncharacteristically insulting fashion as she glanced about at the others currently on the bridge, from officers such as Lt. Sulu, anxiously sitting at his helm or Ensign Pavel Chekov nervously hovering over his navigations next to Sulu, to lesser-recognizable crewpersons currently carrying out a variety of tasks on the topmost saucer section-located level, "but I'm almost at a point where a mutiny might actually be a good idea."

"All right, Mr. Spock," tensely said Kirk as he swiftly led four of his friends and officers into the briefing room a few decks down, "now that you've prevented a fistfight between myself and Dr. McCoy…"

"Captain," insisted Spock passionlessly, even as he led the other three, one wearing a tunic of gold-green, one bright red, and the last a cool blue like his own, in sitting tensely about the oddly-shaped conference table with its tri-screened display setup in the more-or-less exact smooth-surfaced middle, "I have observed, first-hand, the increasing tension brought about by a year of relative inaction in regards to the numerous anti-climatic missions after…"

"Spock," cut in McCoy as his infamous scowl impossibly deepened, "the last thing we need is for a know-it-all Vulcan to tell us that boredom is about to send most of us mere Humans over the proverbial edge! Don't you think we're intelligent enough to know that already?"

For a split-second, Spock actually considered answering in the negative to the curious question of Humans being "intelligent" at all, then thankfully allowed Vulcan training in regards to repressing such emotions take control and resumed his conversation strictly directed at their mutual commanding officer.

"As I was saying, Captain, having noticed such tension with not only the lesser-ranked crewpersons carrying out mindless duties, but even the highest-ranked as well as those permanently appointed to bridge obligations, I thought it might prove prudent to call this impromptu meeting in order to discuss some logical alternatives to…"

Suddenly, the klaxon shrilly sounded a Red Alert along with red flashing lights above or beside closed doors, which had the curious, to Spock at least, effect of swiftly reinvigorating the Human contingent of the starship…

It had caused Lieutenant-Commander Montgomery Scott to come alive unlike his previously, since the mission to Ekos on Stardate: 2534.0, zombie-like state of consciousness while performing bridge-related chief engineer requirements…

Dr. McCoy's grimace became less a dominating factor, along with a Southern twang to his voice he'd often take on in instances of either extreme relaxation or equally extreme excitement…

While Kirk, himself, became the consummate commander everyone on board the ENTERPRISE, from fresh-faced ensigns to dedicated bridge-duty individuals, had long since expected him to be…

And as for Spock, he simply stayed the always-logical, scientifically curious half-Vulcan/half-Human he always was…

No sooner stepping out onto the bridge, mere moments after leaving the briefing room for the nearest turbolift, Spock strode straight and steady for his science station while Scotty almost ran directly for the bridge-related engineering station, even as Kirk stopped short of the steps leading down into the lower tier with McCoy a couple of paces behind.

"Report!"

By the time a variety of dry data had been tossed about by a rainbow of colored tunics with either existing or not existing sleeve braids, Kirk concentrated on only three: Lt. Sulu, Mr. Chekov, and Lt. Uhura.

"We had just slowed to Warp One as we approached 61 Cygni, Captain," said a suddenly enlivened Sulu half-turning toward Kirk.

"They," chimed in Chekov with his choppy Russian-accented voice that easily attracted too much attention to his relatively inexperienced youth, "came straight at us from the middle of 61 Cygni at Varp One as vell, sir!"

Uhura was next as she swiftly stated, communications earpiece protruding from her left ear, manicured fingers now dancing skillfully across communications controls, "I've tried hailing on all know frequencies, sir…no response!"

"Mr. Scott," said Kirk as he strode toward Spock, currently manipulating the scanner hood's data-variant controls as opalescent blue glimmered across slanted-brow eyes more capable than any of swiftly deciphering the steady stream of information intense scans could relate, "kill the klaxon! I want to be able to hear my officers the first time!"

"Aye, aye, sir," Scotty's almost musical Scottish brogue said with a snap, even as his educated chief engineer's fingers did exactly that one second after said order. Now all that remained in mute testimony to something strange and/or urgent were the flashing red lights, to either side of the turbolift doors on Deck One as well as the box-like light in-between helm and navigations, as well as a single monitor overlooking interconnected consoles with two all-important blinking on-and-off words: Condition: Alert.

"Mr. Spock?" asked Kirk in a tightly controlled tone that was not at all loud, even as a knitted slanted-brow half-Vulcan/half-Human straightened from staring into the scanner hood's data displayed in easy-on-the-eyes blue illumination.

Looking first at his commander and, afterwards, at the viewscreen's display of swiftly closing pseudo-starships, Spock emotionlessly said, "It would appear, Captain, that the vessels on fast attack-vectored advance are of a design based on our own, but from a world we'd deemed to be no longer a viable threat. Either to their twin world system or…"

"Spock, who the hell are they?" anxiously pressed Kirk a little louder than necessary, even as McCoy, still standing at the top of those short steps leading down to the lower tier, reacted at what all bridge personnel suddenly saw via magnified viewscreen, thanks solely to Sulu.

"Ekosians, Captain."

That single two-word statement, along with the lifting, once again, of a single slanted brow, struck hard as, very visible on the viewscreen's magnified, by a factor of two times normal, imagery readily revealed vessels with warp nacelles as well as enormous markings of red, with white circular center proudly displaying a slightly tilted black symbol still recognizable even after three hundred years…

"Nazi starships!"

END OF CHAPTER 1


	2. Chapter 2

**PATTERNS OF INVASION**

By: Dan Bivens

Chapter 2

CAPTAIN'S LOG, SUPPLEMENTAL. Because we'd inadvertently left behind, barely a year earlier, an unclaimed hand phaser, which had then been kept by the tyrannical rulers of Ekos whose warlike race had been mistakenly introduced to Nazism by the now-dead John Gill, had been not only completely retro-engineered by Gestapo scientists and technicians, but a believed-dead Deputy Führer-turned-Führer, Melakon, had evidently, in an unbelievably short series of months since the ENTERPRISE's departure, made the mimicked leap from chemical rockets to warp-traveling starships of their own. A situation which wound up with the peaceful-yet-scientifically ingenious Zeon, literal planetary neighbor of star system M34, being very nearly obliterated with those tens of thousands of Zeon survivors swiftly turned into slave laborers who helped develop the first fleet warp-capable Nazi starships currently preparing to attack my starship! If 23rd Century Nazis laid claim to any of the hundreds of worlds currently part of the United Federation of Planets…God help the galaxy!

"Shields, Mr. Scott!" said Captain James T. Kirk currently occupying his center seat even as the seen-via-viewscreen Nazi starships streaked in at a sustained Warp One, the same relativistic speed at which the USS ENTERPRISE had been currently traveling. "Special attention to our forward deflector screens!"

"Workin' on it, Captain!" said Lieutenant-Commander Montgomery Scott from the port side of the circular bridge whereupon his station was situated. "I might have to steal a wee bit of power from some of the secondary systems to maintain it, sir!"

"I don't care if you have to steal it from your grandmother's purse, Mr. Scott," said Kirk with a clipped tone as his eyes stayed practically glued to the forward viewscreen's digitally-clear display, "just keep those forward shields strong! Lt. Sulu…evasive action so they can't surround us! Mr. Chekov, fire photon torpedoes at near point-blank range!"

"Aye, sir!" said Lt. Hikaru Sulu even as he activated and raised his helm's targeting sight system.

"Aye, Keptin!" also said Ensign Pavel Chekov even as he preprogrammed the detonation discharge of all photon torpedoes for close proximity explosion even as he allowed Sulu to slave-use all phaser bank controls since his was the side with the close-quarters targeting rig. "Release of torpedoes in twenty-five seconds, sir!"

"Uhura?"

"Still no response on any channel, sir!" said the beautiful black lady in short red tunic-skirt so competently manning her communications station directly to the rear of her handsome commanding officer's center seat.

"Send subspace distress call to Starfleet Command, Lieutenant!" pressed Captain Kirk even as the view of the vectored-for-attack Nazi starships seemed seconds from minimum range for their roughly retro-fitted phased energy cannons, such as sensor scans had already detected. "Relay it to all nearby starbases as well! Even though they're using primitive versions of our weaponry, one starship is not going to be able to hold them off for long!"

"Aye, Captain!"

"Spock?"

Having rooted his tall, thin Vulcan physicality to hover over the scanner hood of his station on the starboard side of the circular bridge, the calm-no-matter-what Commander Spock promptly reported, "If they get any closer, Captain, even crude phased energy cannons in such numbers could easily batter through our shields until the ENTERPRISE hull has been breached. Recommend…"

"No recommendations necessary, Spock," snarled Kirk even as some small part of him was actually glad that the tedium of the past star-year had, at long last, been ended, "you do your job, Mr. Spock, and I'll do mine. Sulu…Chekov…open fire!"

If one were space-walking in a special pressurized spacesuit capable of looking at warp-traveling vessels currently engaging in rabid battle, one would essentially see, but not hear through the frozen airless vacuum of both space and warp space, the USS ENTERPRISE suddenly unleashing gleaming beams of crimson searing through the prevailing void to violently slam into the lesser-shielded ships brandishing centuries-old swastika symbols in blood-red squares larger than a planet-bound building.

Some would fall by the spatial wayside, partially or totally taken out of the furious fight, while others would employ battle-smart evasive maneuvers, similar to such initiated by the ENTERPRISE, even as photon torpedoes, brilliant points of destructive stars, spread wide while erupting explosively, still all sight and no sound, with bluish matter-antimatter detonations somewhat more destructive than phaser banks blasts.

Especially at such close range.

One would also note that those within the swastika-sporting Nazi starships apparently were quick to learn from costly mistakes in the use of starship military tactics born of the 23rd Century Starfleet Command, while swiftly attempting, at Warp One or better relativistic velocities cutting through, in short swift tunneling through normal space-time, to so surround the USS ENTERPRISE, celebrated starship of the Federation, even as it swiftly, utilizing warp-powered twists and turns, attempted to deny these devilish invaders such a substantial triumph.

It would quickly become crystal clear to any hypothetical outside observer at such a point that, even when one weighed high-tech phaser banks and photon torpedoes against less-effective phased energy cannons at least a century behind current Starfleet technology, that should the ENTERPRISE fail to promptly warp-distance itself from the fleet of Nazi starships, at least until the eventual arrival of more Constitution-class starships to assist in the defense of Federation space, planets, and peoples, the Ekosian Nazis could, quite possibly, prevail.

"Sir, shields are bucklin' and there's nothin' I can do!" shouted Scotty amidst a shower of sparks from his station, even as Sulu spun around with additional bad news.

"Captain, phaser banks are nearly depleted of power!"

"Keptin!" exclaimed Chekov even as his news proved every bit as bad. "Ve have no more photon torpedoes! Ve have used them all in battle!"

"Spock!" Kirk blurted out even as he stepped close enough to tightly grip the red railing separating upper tier from lower while Spock completed supplementary sensor sweeps via the luminous blue inset screen so steadily displaying data the officer with the pallid color tinged with green and slanted eyebrows was quick to critique.

"Captain, there exists enough fully functional Ekosian starships with serviceable phased energy cannons and primitive deflective force field protection to preclude the likelihood that the ENTERPRISE, on its own, could…"

"Mr. Sulu!" loudly ordered Captain Kirk before his friend and first officer could conclude his long-winded description of a certainly losing situation. "Get us the hell outta here, Lieutenant! Warp Eight! Mr. Chekov, plot a direct course for the nearest starbase!"

"Aye, aye, Captain," said Sulu even as he swiftly deactivated the target sighting device, which quickly lowered itself back into its hidden holder to the far left side of his helm, even as Chekov quickly located said nearest starbase and laid in the necessary navigational information.

Seconds later, again from an outside observer, capable of peering through normal and warped space simultaneously, even as the Nazi starships maintained their violently invasive advance, the ENTERPRISE streaked away at a warp speed Kirk had hoped such primitive vessels, based on their unmistakably primitive phased energy cannons and the total lack of photon torpedoes, could not possibly accomplish.

As terrible as it felt to basically turn tail and run, as Dr. McCoy, who'd long since left the bridge the instant trouble reared its proverbially repugnant head, might put it, Kirk knew it was the only way to not only protect his ship, but the populations of hundreds of Federation planets further within.

Having left the bridge in Spock's exceptionally capable Vulcan hands, now that the ENTERPRISE, traveling at a steady Warp Factor Eight while the Nazi invader vessels, according to Spock's logical analysis based on intensive sensor scans, could only push their warp engines and nacelles to a maximum of Warp Factor Four…

"Any injuries or fatalities, Bones?" tensely asked Kirk after entering sickbay six decks down, which was, at the moment, completely empty of potential patients. "During the battle, I mean."

Already relying on Saurian Brandy, one for him and one for Kirk, McCoy managed a mien of curmudgeonly disdain and said, "Well, luckily, there were only some small cuts and bruises. No broken bones. Nothing life-threatening. But that's just because we were damned lucky, Jim!"

"Lucky?" parroted the perplexed Captain as he accepted the smoky-colored glass of Saurian Brandy even as McCoy did a little more than simply sip his. "I thought it was my expert command capabilities that had made it possible for the ENTERPRISE to…"

"Oh, bull!" snidely snapped McCoy while refilling his glass even as Kirk continued to consume his much more slowly. "It was blind luck and you know it! A few more minutes wallowing along at Warp One and we'd probably be unwelcome 'guests' of these new Nazis who, by the way, weren't ever supposed to reach such a high-tech level so quickly in the first damn place! If you or Spock could've troubled your 'busy minds' with that left-behind hand phaser…not to mention assuming Melakon was dead…!"

"All right, all right, all right," surrendered Kirk after finishing off a single glass of Saurian Brandy and no more. "You know how much I hate turning away from a fight, Bones. I guess…I guess I'm just looking for a non-logical agreement in my actions."

"Yeah, I guess you did the right thing, Jim," finally replied Dr. McCoy even as he filled his smoky-colored glass with still more alien alcohol. "God knows there wasn't too much else you could've done without losing not only the ship and crew but leaving Federation space wide-ass open for these Nazi bastards. Naw, you did the right thing, Jim. Let's just hope like hell, when we do head back with several starships, we'll be able to stop 'em before untold billions are killed."

Even as Kirk continued to torture himself over a decision he so detested in light of all the times he had led his illustrious starship to guaranteed glory…

"Report, Col. Ethok!" demanded the brown-haired Führer, still sitting in his opulent office more than a dozen light-years to the rear of this steadily proceeding, at Warp Four, fleet of Nazi vessels. Even as the black-garbed Gestapo officer stood at attention before the subspace-transmitted image, though not one hundred percent static-free, currently established via two-way between fleet and planetary base-of-operations.

"My Führer," began the grinning man beneath the elegantly black cap, "I am more than happy to report that our fleet successfully struck the first of many planets inside Federation space. And we engaged none-other-than the USS ENTERPRISE in combat with only mild losses!"

"That is excellent news, Col. Ethok," nodded the slightly static-ridden subspace transmission of Melakon, who then harangued, " of course, the news would've been better had you told me you destroyed the ENTERPRISE! Now you and your surviving Nazi starships must prepare for retaliatory action by several Starfleet starships! How do you plan on handling such a situation once it presents itself, Colonel?"

With a self-certain smirk, Col. Ethok gestured one black leather gloved hand in the direction of two World War II-type helmeted Nazi soldiers in gray-green who immediately manhandled a beautiful lady of humanoid descent, while stating, "I think holding hostage this high-ranking Federation official shall cause them to pause potential counterstrikes, Führer Melakon."

"Hostage?" said Melakon with knitted-brow scowl while looking at the feather-haired, literally, person dressed in elegantly colorful bureaucratic attire. "Who is she?"

"Speak!" snarled Col. Ethok with some rough handling of his own.

"M-my n-name," stammered a terrified politico from a planet in the 61 Cygni system left decidedly damaged in the interstellar wake of the Nazi starships, "is Trellius. Ambassador Trellius. And I m-must protest the t-treatment of not only myself and my s-staff, b-but the violent intrusion on the s-surface of m-my homeworld, Ch'Lonn Three! I demand…!"

"You shall demand nothing, woman!" shouted an enraged, racist, as well as sexist Nazi leader hell-bent on prevailing in his own Hitler-like intention to destroy and dominate. "You, Ambassador Trellius, shall soon see what we Ekosians can do when following our fated path to totalitarian glory! Should the ENTERPRISE return with more Starfleet starships…your potentially torturous death shall be the punishing prize! Ha, ha, ha, hahaha!"

END OF CHAPTER 2


	3. Chapter 3

**PATTERNS OF INVASION**

By: Dan Bivens

Chapter 3

CAPTAIN'S LOG, STARDATE: 2634.9. After pushing our own engines at Warp Eight for several hours, the USS ENTERPRISE, nearly depleted of phaser energy and completely emptied of photon torpedoes, due to the one-against-many combative encounter that had occurred just outside 61 Cygni, our stellar destination, against Nazi starships! To be more precise, they were Ekosian starships, based upon an accidentally left-behind hand phaser a solar year earlier. But as their tyrannical leader, Führer Melakon, whom we thought shot dead by a Zeon named Isak, held tightly to the reins of ravenous power…he managed to mimic and mass-produce starships with primitive phased energy cannons. And had evidently decided the time was right to take their tyranny beyond their twin-inhabited system we had dubbed M34. Unfortunately, for not only the Federation but the ENTERPRISE as well, they were far too potentially deadly for a single, solitary starship to take on. Therefore I had ordered my crew to take us at maximum space-warp speed to the nearest Starfleet starbase for swift assistance. I can only hope that it's not a case of too little…too late.

"Establish contact with Starbase 13, Uhura," Captain James T. Kirk quickly commanded of his singularly lovely communications officer even as the mushroom-shaped duranium-metal starbase, with the huge figures "13" stenciled impossibly large onto its umbrella-like top section with the more cylindrical section, fully two-thirds of the sitting-in-space super-structure, gradually grew in the viewscreen of the thrusters-only traveling vessel.

"Contact made, Captain," Lt. Nyota Uhura replied while simultaneously listening via the silvery earpiece to a wide variety of incoming normal-space transmissions before readily adding, "starbase commander, Commodore Cameron Trent, coming on screen, sir."

Slowly standing, as Kirk quickly considered how weary, emotionally as well as physically, he truly turned out to be since executing the better part of valor several hours before…

"Commodore Trent, sir," said Kirk with a quick half-bow of his head, even as the agitated image of a middle-aged man, considerably older than Captain Kirk!, wearing a similarly-colored command tunic whose sleeve braids, the Captain instinctively knew, held significantly more solid gold than his own. "On behalf of myself and my crew, I'd like to extend our thanks for…"

"Never mind the pleasantries, Captain Kirk," snapped a tensed-up Trent, a command-grade officer who'd never even been an active part of the bridge of a Constitution-class starship, let alone embroiled in battle, "just tell us what the hell's going on out there! Your message said something about…Nazi vessels? This is the Twenty-Third Century, you know!"

"I'll have my complete log transmitted right away, Commodore, but I must once again stress the desperate need for as many operational starships as can be quickly congregated! We don't have very much time before…!"

"Now hold it right there, Kirk!" nastily interjected Commodore Trent with more than a little insulting tension to both tone and countenance. "I didn't rise to the rank of Commodore in charge of an entire starbase by flying off the handle at the first sign of…!"

"Just allow the ENTERPRISE to enter and dock in one of the bigger bays of Starbase 13, sir," insisted a less-than-gracious Captain Kirk, no longer leaning toward typical procedural protocols. "While my ship undergoes cursory repairs and a restocking of photon torpedoes as well as the re-energizing of all phaser banks, I'll be more than content to listen to whatever you have to say. Agreed?"

Clearly listening to the advise of some lesser officer not in the viewscreen's visual, Commodore Trent tersely replied, "I expect you and your top officers to come to Level One and report, personally, to me in my centrally-located office, Kirk! Trent out."

Even as the signal was severed by starbase communications, the gradually growing image of Starbase 13's larger umbrella-like levels filled the screen, even as the outer metal doors of one of several exceptionally large starship-sized docking bays were promptly opening, Kirk commented curtly while still standing before his center seat.

"Just our luck…we've got a systems-wide situation with Nazi starships and this greenhorn's hell-bent on doing things by the book. Mr. Spock…Mr. Scott…come with me to the main transporter room so we can beam over as soon as possible. Lt. Uhura, advise Dr. McCoy to meet us there."

No sooner had Commander Spock, Lieutenant-Commander Montgomery Scott, and Kirk stepped past swiftly parting turbolift doors than Uhura touch-activated the exact control of her console station to establish an instant intercom connection to sickbay on Deck Five.

Meanwhile, still several light-years distant from Starbase 13, the more sluggishly traveling, at a relativistic velocity of Warp Factor Five, many, many, many times slower than the geometrically accumulative velocities reached at Warp Eight…meaning an approximated relativistic speed-difference of 553-billion kilometers-per-hour as compared to a more meager 135-billion kilometers-per-hour.

"Colonel," reported a black-garbed Gestapo officer from the far less proficient, and technically more primitive, version of a combination helm and navigations console, as the illusory display of stars streaking past at speeds seemingly 125 times faster than the speed-of-light through normal space, while the ENTERPRISE had seemingly streaked away at 512 times faster, "although our less efficient sensor scans have lost the space-warped trail of the USS ENTERPRISE, out current course does take us within attack range of yet another Federation world."

"Excellent, Lieutenant," answered a smug, yet still desperate to please his superior, Führer Melakon, Col. Ethok from the crude command chair in the heart of the significantly less spacious non-circular bridge deck. "Take us into orbital limits and arrange for some of our best phase-rifle armed soldiers to take a shuttlecraft down in order to commence concentrated occupation of whatever sub-Ekosian race is there. Leave one, and only one, Ekosian starship behind to destroy most the planet's surface to quell potential populace opposition."

"Yes, Colonel, sir!"

Even as the ebony-uniformed officer operated the combination of helm and navigations to quickly and obediently comply, the helmeted soldier in the gray-green uniform off to one side of the octagonal-arranged claustrophobic bridge proceeded in passing on, via ship-to-ship subspace communicative connections, the Colonel's ambitious blueprint for bloody domination of their third, thus far, non-Ekosian planet set for destruction and/or concentrated occupation since striking out at meager multi-warp speeds from system M34.

"Wh-what do you m-mean to d-do, Colonel?" nervously asked Ambassador Trellius of the humanoid inhabitants with definite feather-hair from a planet already partially laid waste by starships and soldiers scant hours before. "Do y-you m-mean to savagely attack them as you have d-done to my planet and people?"

"Of course, Ambassador Trellius," answered a still-smirking Nazi SS officer in basic black even as this colorfully, though still business-like, clothed political person of, to such as this Ekosian Colonel, inferior racial stock stood at phased pistol-point nearby.

"Such is the only reason these starships were swiftly constructed by Zeon slaves. And such was the reason we struck out at the USS ENTERPRISE to, in essence, chase them away, while leaving the bulk of Federation space at our not-so-tender mercy, Ambassador. Ekos, lead by our assassination-surviving Führer, is destined to establish total control over all formerly Federation planets and peoples! Those we do not destroy shall service our Master Race."

"Though Ch'Lonn Three has only been a member-world of the United Federation of Planets for a little more than two years," said Trellius with the first non-stammering-with-abject-terror tone than she had spoken in since the wholesale slaughter of billions on her planet as well as her brutal abduction, "we know enough about their Starfleet Command to know that such as you shall be destroyed utterly before more billions fall!"

"We shall see."

A quick black leather gloved hand-signal from the still-seated, superiority complex minded Col. Ethok, and the phased pistol-toting gray-green uniformed soldier with the W.W.II-type Nazi helmet roughly dragged Ambassador Trellius to one shadowy side and…

"Noo—"

Fzzzzt!

Thud!

Yes," sardonically said Col. Ethok beneath his breath while looking, again, at the illusory display of FTL-streaking stars on the smaller-than-ENTERPRISE's viewscreen. "We shall see. But not you, my dear dead Ambassador. Not you. Ha, hahaha!"

END OF CHAPTER 3


	4. Chapter 4

**PATTERNS OF INVASION**

By: Dan Bivens

Chapter 4/Conclusion

COMMODORE'S LOG, STARDATE: 2635.1. Having met privately, yet also officially, with Captain James T. Kirk, Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, Lieutenant-Commander Montgomery Scott, and Commander Spock in my centrally located office, it has become clear that, due to a fatalistic mistake made by three of these four officers, all of the Federation and Starfleet now face perhaps the worst example of invasion in over a century! As a high-ranking command-grade constituent of Starfleet Command, I have taken it entirely upon myself to, first, send a subspace request for all active starships to converge in this general region in order to engage the group of Nazi starships, having evidently already destroyed most if not all of Ch'Lonn Three in the 61 Cygni system, as no subspace messages to their homeworld have yet been answered. I must assume the worst. Just as I must sit in on a special circumstances inquest to consider a court-marshal against Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and Mr. Spock, specifically. With a cursory set of potential charges brought to bear upon Lt.-Commander Scott, whom had been in charge of the ENTERPRISE during its standard orbital status about planet Ekos in system M34. As to charges brought against on-duty bridge personnel in particular, such shall be decided at a later date.

Ding-ding! Ding-ding! Ding-ding!

"Let the records show that I, Commodore Cameron Trent of Starbase 13," said the middle-aged desk-jockey, as such a term still pertained to officer's of rank that, in point of fact, had never ever actually commanded, in the sense of those, like Kirk, who'd sat in the center seat of an active starship. "Have ordered these proceedings in lieu of actual charges to be brought regarding gross misconduct on behalf of these three ENTERPRISE officers directly related to the events currently taking place surrounding space."

Commodore Trent took a tense pause, after gently setting aside the small metal-topped mallet traditionally used to ring the bench bell in order to officially start such centuries-old military matters. Looking resplendent in his dress uniform tunic of green with an impressive display of colorful mini-triangular metals, standard for anyone higher than an Ensign, with gold-braided, as well as exceedingly stiff, collar as said gold braid ran straight and smooth down the front of the tunic.

As to the trio of top officers from the USS ENTERPRISE, they had been denied time to return via transporter to their respective starship cabins in order to change into their own dress uniform tunics. They, therefore, sat at the rectangular table arranged directly before the bench, behind which sat the Commodore and two of his own top officers, also in dress tunics, wearing the self-same common duty-uniform tunics each had been wearing when first arriving at Starbase 13.

Even the red tunic-wearing security personnel, Ensigns both, wore dress tunics while standing at attention to either side of the double-door entry/exit of this hastily established setup for what Kirk and company continually contested as being a travesty of justice and a dangerous waste of time.

Time that could be better utilized in at least slowing the Nazi Ekosian invasion until more starships arrived.

"Captain Kirk," said Trent after tugging on his too stiff, and even itchy, previously implied by such as McCoy or Scotty, dress tunic. "As already explained, this is merely a semi-official inquest to see if there is sufficient reason to bind you and your fellow officers, and, quite possibly, the standing bridge crew of the ENTERPRISE, over to Starfleet Command for official court-marshal proceedings. Is that understood?"

"The only thing I need to understand, sir," said Kirk stiffly with borderline insubordination to his tense tone and facial affectation, "is why, again, are we wasting precious time on an inquest, official or not! When the ENTERPRISE needs to get out there and try to at least hold off the Ekosian invasion force until those other starships arrive to…!"

Pounding hard thrice over with a traditional court gavel to swiftly silence "Defendant #1" of three, so far, Commodore Trent stated, even as he half-rolled his salt-and-pepper haired head in an apparent attempt to create a "comfort zone" within the stiffness of his braided collar, "I've already explained the reasons, Captain. You, yourself, said that a single starship simply could not hold out any hope of preventing this so-called Nazi fleet from continuing on their destructive course into the very heart of Federation space! Therefore, there would be no logical reason to…"

When it came to the word "logic", only a single individual, with slanted eyebrows, pointed ears, and pale, green-tinged, stoic countenance, also seated at the table-of-the-cursorily accused, was, essentially, an expert.

"Sir," said Spock imperturbably, sitting stiff-backed with longish limbs folded across the narrow chest in the uniform tunic, standard dress, of middling blue. "Though I, personally and professionally, concede, as first officer and science officer of the USS ENTERPRISE, the improbability of potential triumph from pitting a solitary starship against several…even though theirs consist of century-old weaponry and less-efficient warp drive…I must state that, strictly speaking in regards to regulations revolving around the irrefutable fact that any and all such Starfleet vessels as the ENTERPRISE are bound by undeniable duty to Federation worlds and peoples to essentially risk all in a situation such as this, whereby the resulting…"

Once again, Trent thrice struck the gavel against the smooth surface of the hastily contrived tribunal bench, in order to promptly interrupt the too-literal, totally logical, half-Vulcan/half-Human sitting between Captain James T. Kirk, to Spock's left, and Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, to Spock's right.

Causing Spock to lift a single slanted brow in a manner his commanding officer fully recognized, as an expression of insult from the half-Vulcan's Human half.

"Once again, Mr. Spock, rest assured that starships are on course for this general Quadrant's Sectors, as per my earlier transmission via subspace to them," heaved an overly self-important Commodore flanked by officers of proper hearing rank, one Lieutenant-Commander and one Commander. "Releasing you and your ship shall do nothing more than complicate an already complex situation. A situation that would've never come to pass had you, Dr. McCoy, and Captain Kirk retrieved, by any means necessary, the Gestapo-taken hand phasers before transporting back up to the ENTERPRISE. And making absolutely certain that Melakon, shot by a Zeon posing as an SS soldier accompanying the three of you in similarly stolen Nazi-Ekosian uniforms, was, indeed, dead before warping away as you inevitably decided to do…none of this would be at all necessary!"

"This is ridiculous!" spat McCoy in quite obvious insubordination with a corresponding scowl. "Commodore, I don't know how the hell you got those thick gold sleeve braids, but if you had one iota of real experience against seemingly impossible odds when on a celebrated starship, such as the ENTERPRISE, that has, on several occasions, literally saved the Federation as well as…!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"That's enough, Dr. McCoy!" Trent said with a sneer of insult-aggravated anger while having to force himself to at least sound like a purely duty-bound Starfleet official. "Though this is not a true Starfleet Command Court-Marshal, as yet, there are still proper protocols to attend and one of them is that a Defendant can not fly in the face of anyone who outranks him! You do have the right to present, orally, defensive explanations to any and all allegations, but you must do so with a modicum of order! Now…let us proceed."

Even as Kirk and McCoy allowed a louder-than-necessary sound of derision to roll forth, Spock, one slanted brow still lifted, silently reasoned, via actual equation-based processes within the totally orderly multitasking mind of the Vulcan, that by the time starships traveling at maximum-plus warp speed arrived at combatively executable distances from said Nazi vessels…untold billions would, logically, either die or, at best, be forced into slave-labor survivors to somehow assist in continued Ekosian invasion.

Even though, in theoretical Truth, the odds that the ENTERPRISE, no doubt now completely repaired with phaser banks recharged and photon torpedoes replaced, could truly hold back such an invasion force long enough to significantly alter such depressing, from a Human-emotion standpoint, prospects was 7,927.342-to-one against, it still seemed reasonable to at least attempt it rather than hold a potentially illegal inquest.

And what of those Nazi starships sent forth by an assassination-surviving Führer Melakon back on Ekos of M34 dozens of light-years in the invading armada's warp-drive wake?

"Report!" Col. Ethok almost shouted as several soldiers and officers, occupying primitive stations about the octagonal-arranged bridge atop the Nazi starship serving to lead the rest, were expeditious in their respectful replies.

"Approaching fourth Federation planetary system at a sustained speed of Warp Factor Five, Col. Ethok!"

"Attack vectors plotted and laid in, sir!"

"Phased energy cannons fully charged for orbital firing at your command, Colonel!"

"Sensor scans show no opposing vessels, Colonel, sir!"

Relaxing a little into his crude command chair in the center of the cramped bridge, the Colonel's eyes stayed practically glued to the static-ridden viewscreen's display of a near-distant planet of Class-M specification with five mid-sized moons. Already a part of their computer-contained data. Gleaned from information forcefully collected and correlated from two other recently-attacked/occupied worlds within the United Federation of Planets. After attacking and half-obliterating the planet of the abducted, dead hostage, Ambassador Trellius, long before reaching two others that fell just as quickly even though they were worlds of significantly longer Federation affiliation.

"We have more than enough occupation camps setup since leaving Ekos," said a sadistically sneering, insanely glaring Colonel in black. "More than enough slaves to work as we see fit. This world shall serve as the best example of our Führer's Ultimate Task. All ships…surround this sorry excuse for a civilization and destroy it utterly! Down to the last man, woman, and child! Heheheh, heh, heh, heh!"

But, even as these starships of century-old Starfleet design did so, something, unknown to the self-proclaimed Ekosian "Master Race", had been a secretively collective action taken by the tens of thousands, out of billions!, of Zeon survivors/slaves. During their forced round-the-clock labor construction, in orbital space surrounding Zeon via standard pressure/oxygen supplied spacesuits, such was purposely completed to be quite claustrophobic.

So unswervingly convinced were these Nazi-minded Ekosians of their supposed superiority that they had no idea that such had been the plan of Zeon slaves. Supplying said invaders with what appeared to be the equal to such as the USS ENTERPRISE. When, in actuality, this "superior race" were, when it came to warp speed limitations, energy weapons, and even protective force field shielding levels, granted starships totally inadequate to an equal number of present-day Starfleet starships.

Something that would, even as this collection of vessels slowly, using thrusters only now, positioned themselves at predetermined points around the Earth-like planet so many dozens of light-years from the imaginary boundary in space that separated the United Federation of Planets from the M34 system wherein Zeon and Ekos existed. Both once slated for eventual inclusion into the Federation once peace swept across Ekos' surface.

On the lead Nazi Ekosian starship, whereupon Col. Ethok sat in his center seat like a micro-emperor, a helmeted soldier in gray-green uniform informed his Gestapo-based superior in solid black of something exceptionally dire transpiring in nearby normal space.

"Col. Ethok! Sensor sweeps are picking up a half-dozen Starfleet starships dropping from warp drive into normal space! Closing fast in attack vectors centered on us!"

Col. Ethok, too-slowly responding, as was expected for someone who truly believed they were supreme and that their race's destiny precluding the slightest possibility of such an attack by technically superior starships, finally…

"Evasive action! Open fire on the incoming craft! Obliterate them all! Heil Melakon!"

Struggle as did these officers and soldiers, practically packed within the octagonal-arranged bridge of such claustrophobic construction, yet another purposeful self-defeating function secretly created by Zeon slaves!, they simply could not turn the Nazi ships, still using thrusters only, in time. Nor could protective force fields be erected quickly enough nor were the primitive phased energy cannons capable of accurately firing at out-of-range, for them!, Starfleet starships.

"Colonel!" shouted the SS officer seated at the combination console for limited helm and navigations. Even as Col. Ethok became catatonic due to his staggering disbelief even as their somewhat static-interrupted viewscreen display denoted mid-distant Constitution-class starships slowing at what, for their 23rd Century designed phaser banks and existing matter-antimatter photon torpedoes, was considered maximum firing range.

"Th-this…c-can't…b-be…"

For those whose imaginations could still consider outside observation as space-walking pressure-suited individuals watching what swiftly took place in the span of mere minutes in real time…

Crimson phaser bank beams lashed out silently through the vacuous void of normal near-planet space to easily destroy most of the still-slowly turning, via thrusters, Ekosian starships. Boldly brandishing building-sized blood-red square-shaped fields within which were gargantuan rings of white displaying sizeable black slanted swastikas with such sickening self-importance. Turning them into tiny spinning pieces of dense metal amidst swiftly exploding, silently still, interior artificial atmospheres amidst simultaneous incendiary destruction of energy-contained contrivances.

As to the hundreds of Nazi-uniformed, both officers in black from cap to knee-high boots to W.W. II-type helmeted soldiers in gray-green, they were granted an instantly peaceful demise via disintegration.

As to those vessels of Ekos' Nazi regime impacted by photon torpedoes, such blue-energy delivered matter-antimatter destruction seemed much more barbaric as their hundreds of officers and soldiers were sent either whole or halved, physically, out through the freezing airlessness surrounding their now-demolished vessels.

Just like that, it was over. Or, rather, an invasion force sent toward the heart of the United

Federation of Planets had been abruptly halted.

However, there was still the question of Ekos itself with a planet-wide distribution of millions of hate and rage-filled Nazis relying on retro-engineered, from 23rd Century hand phasers devices, devices under a mad Führer's unflagging faith that such as he was destined for interstellar greatness.

This would prove the greatest fight thus far for Starfleet.

And none commanding these six, out of a total of twelve, Constitution-class starships doubted for a single solitary second that such a pre-emptive strike against Ekos in M34 could be successfully launched without…

"Captain James T. Kirk," said a smug Commodore Cameron Trent after a brief discussion via hushed asides with his Lieutenant-Commander and Commander in what, to Kirk, McCoy, and Scotty, seemed to be dozens of molasses-slow hours. Though, to such as the logically structured, equation-equipped mind of Mr. Spock, was scarcely more than two. "It has been decided by this special circumstances board of informal inquiry that sufficient evidence exists regarding you and your top officers' duplicitous reciprocity regarding a still-existing Nazi-styled military on Ekos eventually developing vessels and energy weapons based solely upon retro-engineered hand phasers left behind when…"

At that exact instant, amidst the immediately recognizable transporter whine, while the molecular structures of four seated Defendants dematerialized right before the eyes of the three dress-tunic uniformed officers at the makeshift bench and the dress-tunic uniformed, in bright red, Ensigns with phaser ones attached at their hips…

"Stop them!"

No sooner had those two words been so riotously shouted by the now-standing Commodore Trent to the security personnel suddenly pulling phaser pistols off their respective hips…

"What happened?" Kirk asked the instant he stepped off the turbolift onto the bridge of his still-docked, inside a big bay of the umbrella-shaped section of Starbase 13, along with Spock, Scotty, and McCoy. "Who ordered an illegal transporting out of…?"

"I did, Jim," said a voice via unseen speakers, causing Kirk to look in the direction of the forward viewscreen's crystal clear display of a smiling starship commander from the bridge of his vessel situated just outside the said duranium-shell starbase.

"Bob," half-grinned Kirk in instant recognition of a friend and fellow starship commander also recognized by an always logical and stoic Spock, now seating himself at his starboard-positioned science station even as Scotty did the same at his port-positioned engineering station. "I take it you have Admiral-approved orders to instigate this 'break-out' from what, strictly speaking in regards to the regs, pre-Court-Marshal inquest?"

"Who's that?" muttered McCoy standing slightly behind his friend and official commanding officer in quiet indication of the man, in gold-green standard tunic for command grade ranks, whose handsome, though older, half-smirking/half-smiling face was framed by thick, largely silver hair brushed straight back.

"Commodore Robert Wesley of the USS LEXINGTON, Bones," quietly replied a broadly grinning and greatly relieved Captain Kirk, still staring at the full-faced display of Commodore Wesley on his sizeable bridge viewscreen. "Which means the Nazi Ekosian starship invasion has been stopped and the ENTERPRISE is going to lead the final assault on Ekos itself…to set right what we had done so wrong a solar-year ago."

"Stand by, Jim," said a smugly certain Commodore Wesley as he hand-signaled a go-ahead to the communications officer in red seated directly to his rear. "We're transmitting our official override orders regarding the ENTERPRISE's release to the C-and-C of Starbase 13. As soon as that's taken care of…"

Swiftly speeding at Warp Eight relativistic velocities, simulating some 552.9-billion kilometers per hour for close to two standard ship-elapsed sixty-minute intervals…

"Sensors picking up five more Starfleet starships, Captain," blandly reported the passionless half-Vulcan/half-Human officer in blue tunic while looking down into his station's scanner hood in order to rapidly read and relate the steady stream of data displayed via luminous blue light cast onto dark, slanted eyebrow eyes. "ETA: 4.56 minutes."

"On screen, Mr. Sulu," said Captain Kirk from his center seat, while a much more relaxed McCoy again stood to its side half-leaning against the left armrest without worrying about aggravating the man in gold-green uniform tunic with two solid and one broken braids of gold on its sleeves. "Magnification two-point-eight."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Sulu said with an equally relaxed tone and affectation while manipulating the proper helm-situated control in order to readily comply.

There, on the viewscreen's crystal clear, magnified nearly thrice over normal, display were four equally recognized Starfleet starships: the USS EXCALIBUR, the USS HOOD, the USS POTEMKIN, and the USS YORKTOWN.

All traveling, along with the returning USS LEXINGTON and the enjoining USS ENTERPRISE, straight for system M34 at Warp Factor Eight. Achieving FTL-simulated velocities some 512 times the speed-of-light. With phaser banks and photon torpedoes on standby and dozens of phaser two armed, as well as a few with phaser rifles, red-tunic uniformed security persons picked for beam-down in order to better facilitate the final surrender of a planet-wide Nazi societal-structured civilization.

Not to mention immediate release from abusive slavery of the tens of thousands of surviving Zeons who would, eventually, begin rebuilding and repopulating their ravaged by phased energy world.

As to Melakon, the supposedly fearless Führer leading these sadistic soldiers and officers wearing uniforms of Nazi design…

Pow!

…in much the same manner as the original Führer from Old Earth in March of 1945, Melakon chose the coward's way out via a perfectly reproduced 9mm Luger pistol of gunmetal black/blue pressed just so underneath his chin.

With a killed-by-his-own-hand Melakon now a bleeding-out corpse in the opulent office within the centralized building of Ekosian Nazi party power, as well as the total lack of surviving Nazi starships for protection and counterattack…

CAPTAIN'S LOG, STARDATE: 2636.8. Having successfully forced surrender on Ekos, as well as seizing any and all hand phaser-based designs for future energy weapons and starships and, also, retrieving any and all items connected with Old Earth Nazis, from flags to uniforms…Ekos now stands as a potential societal addition into the United Federation of Planets. With the constant assistance of Federation scientists, technicians, engineers, and social workers, brought by Starfleet starships to Zeon by the hundreds, the handful of Zeon survivors shall swiftly rise, once more, to become the eternally peaceful, scientifically advanced humanoid race they had been prior to the rise of Nazism so far removed, in time and space, from its horrid origins on a blue-green globe about a single yellow middle-aged star called…Sol.

END


End file.
